


What Could Have Been, What Will Be In Its Stead

by afteriwake



Series: The Summer Of 100 Surprise Stories - Summer 2018 [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dead Sherlock, Established Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Holidays, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Mycroft Holmes, Past Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, Pregnant Molly Hooper, Sad Molly, Taken Too Soon, engagement ring - Freeform, grieving Molly, grieving Mycroft, hit and run, sad mycroft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-05-18 10:49:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: When Sherlock dies, he leaves behind a woman he planned to marry and a child he did not know about. Mycroft is determined to take care of them both in his brother's stead, but nothing is ever as easy as one plans. That is the true Holmes legacy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dreamin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamin/gifts).



> I am sorry for the angst! I am so sorry! But **Dreamin** just claimed more prompts and one of her Mollcroft ones was " _Person A tells Person C that they’re going to propose to Person B on a certain date. Before Person A can propose they die. You decide what happens next._ "

_“I’m going to do it, Mikey. I’m going to do what I should have done years ago. Mark my words.”_

_“Don’t call me Mikey. You know I loathe that name.”_

_“Don’t get snippy. I’m a changed man. I’ve had an epiphany.”_

_“And just what is that epiphany, brother mine?”_

_“I’m going to marry Molly Hooper. Before it strikes midnight next year. In fact, at the stroke of midnight. I’ll ask her to marry me.”_

_“And what if she says no?”_

_“She’s smart enough to know I’m a changed man.”_

_“Are you? Really?”_

_“Yes. You’ll see. This time next year, I’ll be married and you’ll have another sister.”_

_“A better one, I hope.”_

_“Well...I suppose. At least one who isn’t homicidal.”_

_“Best of luck. Do you want Mummy’s ring?”_

_“No. Molly deserves something special. Something all her own.”_

It wasn’t even Christmas and he was gone.

Mycroft’s hand hovered over the velvet box on top of Sherlock’s dresser. He’d changed his mind, changed his plans. Said Christmas Day, trite as it was. She’d wake up next to him and the ring would be there for her. Personally, Mycroft thought the New Year’s Eve proposal was better, but then, what did he know? He was the Ice Man, after all. He had no fond feelings for anyone.

Save his brother and the woman he’d wanted to wed.

For all that Sherlock had survived, for all the close calls and everything, it had been a bloody hit and run driver who had clipped the wings Sherlock would swear were nonexistent. Just one swerve onto the pavement, one quick shove to get John and Rosie out of the way...and he was gone.

His funeral, his _real_ funeral, held in an area that was far away from the family plot and far away from the fake tombstone still visited today, was small. Just the closest in his brother’s life, his found family. Their parents were too grief-stricken to attend. He was sure his mother was hoping this was the Moriarty trap all over again and in a few years her youngest would waltz through the door with his knotted scarf and Belstaff on and ask what he had missed.

Not this time.

There was a public funeral to be held at the public gravestone. An empty coffin would once again be lowered into the space beneath the headstone, but at least they all had a private place to mourn.

And mourn they would, for William Sherlock Scott Holmes was no more in this world.

He grasped the box and opened it. A diamond that was larger than the one her idiotic ex-fiancee had given her was in the center. Two sapphires shaped as hearts glittered in the dull light in the room. Molly would have loved it. She still would, he assumed. She would probably never take it off the finger it was meant to go on.

Good. Sherlock would be happy.

He closed the box and slipped it into his pocket. He would give it to her after the public spectacle, when all was quiet and there was a moment to attempt to catch their breaths as best they could.

Whether they _truly_ ever would, however, he didn’t know.


	2. Chapter 2

“Excuse me.” 

Molly looked pale and wan and nearly bolted from her seat in the direction of the loo. He was worried, of course; he had seen what his brother had not, that the woman he wanted to marry was pregnant with his child. But it seemed no one else had observed this either, so he excused himself from his conversation with Gregory and went to the closed door of the loo, rapping on it gently with his knuckle as the sound of retching was heard on the other side.

“Would you like a washcloth, Molly?” he asked gently.

There was another moment of retching and then a weak “yes” came from the other side of the door. He tested the knob to see if he would need to pick the lock but the door opened and Molly stood there, her black dress making her look even paler. She started to say something but her hand went over her mouth and she went back to the toilet.

“I’ll take care of you both,” Mycroft said as he wet a washcloth in the sink. “It was what Sherlock would have wanted.”

He watched Molly nod slowly, as though she didn’t want to jostle herself any more than necessary, then hung her head over the toilet again, giving them silence for a moment before she spoke. “How did you know?”

“My brother was...preoccupied, but I am just as observant as he was. It was the little things. But I’ll respect your privacy and not say a word to anyone until you do.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I was going to tell him that night. I had it all planned: his favourite dinner, a bottle of wine for him with the message on it because Lord knows after John’s stag night he won’t... _wouldn’t_ touch anything alcoholic except at the wedding, and...” He watched her shut her eyes and tears fall into the toilet bowl. “It’s not fair.”

“No, it is not,” Mycroft said. “But you’ll raise your child the way he would have wanted, I think. They way you both would have wanted. And you will have the strength to get through this, with help.”

“It would be one thing if I was his wife or his fiancee. Now I’m going to have a child out of wedlock with a dead father.”

Mycroft hesitated a moment, then moved with the wet washcloth and knelt next to her, running a hand down her back. “Times are different. And there are many people who will tell your child the stories of his father he would want to be shared. As for the wedlock situation...he had planned to propose on Christmas. I have his ring at his flat.”

“He just had to make it memorable,” Molly said with a scoff, though she had a smile on her face for the moment. “Bloody bastard.”

“Wear the ring until you can’t. Say he proposed in private if you think it will have less stigma attached. The ring is yours, after all.”

Molly looked up at Mycroft. “You are surprisingly comforting, you know that?”

“I think, with you, I will always try,” he said. “You deserve as much.”

“Thank you,” she said, leaning her head against him. Mycroft awkwardly rubbed her back slightly and let them be there in the loo in silence just for a bit. They would get through this together, he thought to himself. They had to.


	3. Chapter 3

She did indeed wear the ring. He knew there had been a day where she went to his parents and told them Sherlock had proposed and that she was pregnant, and to please keep the fact quiet until after the flurry of news surrounding Sherlock’s death had died down a bit. His parents were overjoyed, and he supposed it helped with their grief to know Sherlock would continue on in the form of a son or daughter. Molly was welcomed into the family with the most open of arms, something that made the entire situation easier to bear.

He, himself, had the unfortunate task of informing his sister of Sherlock’s passing, and even in her closed off state, he saw it registered. He did something unexpected that day, picking up the violin that Sherlock had used at Sherrinford and playing one of the pieces Sherlock had composed. He was nowhere near as prodigious at the instrument as his siblings, having preferred the piano himself, but he saw it comforted Eurus a bit.

Still, it was a draining day, and he had planned to go back to his fortress and wallow in a few glasses of wine and perhaps something that would shoot his diet dead for the evening when he saw Anthea at the door. “Your almost sister-in-law is here, and I think she intends on staying for a time. I put her in the rose room.”

Mycroft nodded. “How...is she?”

“Coping, but very sad. Just like you.” Anthea leaned over and squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll leave you both to the dinner I thought you might need. And there’s banoffee pie as well because I know you.”

“You do, so well,” he said with a faint smile. “Take tomorrow off and cancel all my appointments. Reschedule the ones that matter, and I’ll take care of the paperwork from home. Enjoy Kate’s company tonight.”

“You aren’t supposed to know about that,” Anthea said, her tone surprised.

“Life is fleeting, as I have been forcibly reminded. She doesn’t collect secrets like her former employer, which is why I never minded your relationship together.” He paused. “Keep her close. Tell her...well, tell her what you should.”

“I will.” Anthea paused, and then quite unexpectedly leaned over and kissed Mycroft’s cheek in a show of comfort. “Molly’s eating some of the pie, I think. If you want a sliver, head to the kitchen.”

Mycroft nodded and Anthea left then. He headed into the kitchen to see Molly looking haggard but at least less pale. She had a plate of coq au vin and side dishes on one side of her and the full tin of pie on the other. “You know, Anthea is a good cook.”

Molly looked up and gave him a wan smile. “This is my second plate. I’m ravenous.”

“Pregnancy, most likely. A moderate amount of weight gain is to be expected.”

Molly nodded. “Baker Street was just...too much. And I didn’t want to go back to my flat, either. Your parents offered to let me stay with them but they’re...” She trailed off and had another forkful of pie. “Is it alright if I stay here?”

“It’s perfectly fine,” Mycroft said, sitting across from her. There was a plate of dinner there and an extra fork for the pie. He reached across the small kitchen island and reached over with the fork. Of course, there was the grand dining room to sit at but the gloomy kitchen seemed more of the appropriate place, and the small island with stools allowed them more intimacy in conversation than the table would. It was a nice feeling, almost, if it hadn’t been brought by such tragic circumstances.

“Are we going to get through this alright?” she asked, watching him take some of the pie and eat it.

“With all we have been through, I have faith we will. It will be hard but I’m going to let you rely on me for support. Just don’t tell anyone. It will ruin my reputation.” A faint smile crossed Molly’s face, the first sign he had seen that she was not entirely devoid of the capacity to feel good things. Good. This was a prodigious start to whatever their lives held from here on out.


	4. Chapter 4

He was not at all surprised about how comfortable it was to have Molly there. He had seen the way she had fit in so seamlessly into Sherlock’s life, and she seemed to be having the same uncanny ability to do so with him. The first week was harder as they were trying to navigate the same spaces after his having been alone in his home for so long, but after that, it was easier.

The fact that after a month she had not left concerned him, though. She _seemed_ to be coping with the grief but by not returning to her home or Baker Street it made it seem as though she was detached somewhat. Neither of them had gone through Sherlock’s things yet, as they were still in his bedroom and the sitting room, and he wondered if, perhaps, that might be a good first step.

He decided to broach the idea to her over dinner but his plans were dashed by a call from Mrs. Hudson saying someone had attempted to break in and get a peek around. Whether it was someone from Anderson’s fan club, a reporter or worse, there needed to be an end to this. He went to Baker Street himself and with Andrea’s help boxed everything up to take to his home and have Molly sort through it there.

She arrived from her post to see gentlemen hauling things into his foyer. “What’s this?” she asked, looking up at him.

“Someone broke into the flat at Baker Street, so I had all of Sherlock’s things brought here for safekeeping,” he said gently. Molly went and touched a stack of boxes, her fingertips lightly going over the surface. “For now, I don’t think it’s a good idea if you return there to stay, though if you want furniture brought to you home--”

“I’m selling it,” she said quietly, and he stopped. “Too many memories. I love the place, I do, but just thinking about going back makes me want to sob.” She looked over at him. “I don’t think I’ve worn out my welcome, have I?”

“No, I was simply concerned,” he said. “If you want to stay here I suppose we can empty out a room for you and move the furniture and things you want to keep from both places here until you’ve decided where you want to go.”

She gave him a soft smile and went over to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Mycroft. I appreciate that.”

“Yes, well,” he said, blushing slightly. “Do you want my help going through his things? I have a vague idea of what’s in each box, as I only packed about half of them.”

“You packed them yourself?” she asked, surprised.

“With Andrea’s help, yes,” he said with a nod.

“Later tonight we can,” she said. “I think...I think it’s about time I start deciding what to do with his things. But...the will...”

“Andrea and I already separated those items and she is currently delivering them to the people they were meant to go to,” he said. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

“You really are a godsend, Mycroft,” she said, squeezing his arm. “I’ll make dinner and we can fortify ourselves for the task, alright?” He nodded and she moved to the kitchen as more boxes were brought it. It would be a long night but, he hoped, a cathartic one for her.


	5. Chapter 5

After they ate they began the task of going through the boxes. He had observed her and Sherlock’s relationship as an outsider, not entirely understand what she had seen in his brother, but he had the feeling he would understand better tonight. She twisted the engagement ring on her finger and then pulled a box to her and opened it up. “His books,” she said with a smile, running her fingers over the spine.

“There were quite a few I wasn’t sure if they belonged to you or Mrs. Hudson, but she said we could take them all,” he said. “I can put them in the library or we can put them in your room. The choice is yours.”

“I think I’d like them in my room,” she said. “I mean, if we’re going to do furniture rearranging, I suppose I can make a more comfortable bedroom out of the bits and pieces of furniture from both places.”

Mycroft nodded. “That sounds like a solid plan,” he replied.

“What are we going to do with your furniture, though?” she asked. “Most of it seems like it’s expensive and old.”

“It is,” he said with a faint smile. “But I know people who would be willing to buy an entire room. We’ll pick two that you like the most, clear them out, and one will be your permanent bedroom and the other we’ll turn into a nursery for the baby, even if you don’t plan to stay that long. One never knows when I’ll be asked to babysit.”

“Thank you, Mycroft,” she said, and he could see tears at the corner of her eyes. “That means a lot.”

“Please don’t cry,” he said gently, taking a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and handing it to her. He had taken to carrying a clean one every day in case she needed it, having caught her crying when she thought she was alone a few times.

She took the handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. “Thank you. Again,” she said. She set the handkerchief aside when she was done, but after pulling a few books out of the boxes she realized that it was all books, and so she got another box to bring over as he moved that one away. She opened it and saw papers. “I think this is all pertaining to open cases. Or old ones. He never did have a very good filing system.”

“No, he did not,” he said. “We can have John go through those. He would no best what can be archived and what needs to be given to others to solve.”

“Are we going to give them away?” she asked.

“The cases?” Mycroft asked in return. She nodded. “I was going to see if there are people under my employ who could take some of them. Others I would leave to see if John had insights and resources to finish them himself, with some additional help.”

“I could help,” she said. “I’m just...at a loss of what to do. And Sherlock taught me quite a bit, and I assisted him.”

“What of Barts?” he asked.

“Well, eventually I’ll have to take maternity leave. I can decide then. I have a tidy sum saved up, and if I sell my home and some of my belongings...” She trailed off. “I just feel like I’m at a crossroads and the next few decisions I make will impact everything, and I don’t want to make the wrong one.”

“But there is time,” he said gently, reaching over and placing his hand over hers. “Stay here as long as you want. It’s rather nice having company. When you are more settled and in less grief, _then_ make these decisions.”

“Alright,” she said, placing her other hand over his and giving him a grateful smile. “He’d be very happy you’ve stepped in to help.”

“I hope he would,” Mycroft said. “I intend to be here how you need me. We are family, after all.”

“Not really,” she said. “Sherlock and I weren’t even properly engaged.”

“But you are carrying my niece or nephew,” he said. “You’re a part of the Holmes family whether it was formally asked of you or you’re legally bound, and to be honest, I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She looked up and gave him a soft smile with just a tinge of sadness, and he let go of her hands and reached for the handkerchief again. “Dab your eyes and let’s get back to this. There’s no reason to be sad right now.”

“Alright,” she said with a nod, dabbing at her eyes. He had the feeling he might need to get a fresh handkerchief before they were done going through all of the boxes, but at least there were a few plans forming in his mind, and at least, for the time being, neither of them were alone. He was incredibly grateful for that.


End file.
